“You cannot possibly think I’m sleeping in the same room as you?” Cleo said, disgusted. From her expression, one would think Nathan had just suggested she clean the tavern bathrooms with her tongue. He had said no such thing, but the image in his mind was quite funny.

They were in a cramped room on the upper floors of the tavern. It had been made known to them that the tavern was affectionately called Arnold’s. The low walls were of well worn wood, a single window off the side of the bed letting in a steady stream of starlight. Thick woolen blankets of clashing colors sat atop the mattress and splayed across the high-backed armchair in the corner. It reminded Nathan of his grandmother’s home all those many decades ago.

Unfortunately, his Mee-Maw wasn’t here. Just Cleo. She was now older than Nathan’s Mee-Maw had ever been, but Cleo was living proof that with age does not necessarily come warmth and kindness. The witch was more likely to fill her yard with rat poison so all the neighborhood dogs died, than to bake anyone cookies.

The night air outside was cold and blustering, but the mood within the bedroom was somehow even frostier. Cleo walked up to the bed, eyeing it as if suspecting it of housing bed bugs. Nathan stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, dreading the coming night. Maybe he could sleep outside instead? He’d probably be warmer out there than sleeping anywhere near Cleo’s heartless body.

“I get the bed,” Cleo proclaimed, not even looking at Nathan. She brushed a hand along its length, feeling the softness of the blankets and pillows, then brought her hand back with a frown.

“What?” Nathan asked, pushing off the doorframe and stepping fully into the room. “Is the bed not to your liking? I would have assumed that it was miles better than whatever hole you crawled out of.”

“The bed is fine.” She was still frowning, but that was like saying the sky was still blue. Nathan looked around for the softest looking portion of hardwood floor. If Cleo wanted the bed, she could have it. The argument wasn’t worth the effort.

“Then what’s the problem?” Nathan asked, settling down in the plush chair in the corner – all of the floor had looked equally hard and uncomfortable.

“The company,” she said dryly.

“Really?” Nathan closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair and trying to let sleep take him. He’d always thought of sleep as a cousin to death, and in this case, either was preferable to his current situation. “I consider myself much more charming than the snakes and cockroaches that you usually associate with. No offense, I’m sure your mother is a wonderful woman.”

The blankets rustled and the bedframe creaked. Nathan cracked an eye open to see Cleo tucked snugly beneath the covers, back facing him. “If we have to sleep in the same room, could you at least shut up?” Her voice was muffled underneath her blankets.

“Alright, alright,” Nathan said with a sigh. “I’ll let you sleep. Maybe you’ll have some more dreams about drowning puppies, or stealing candy from kids.”

She didn’t grace that with a response. Starlight cast a white glow to everything in the room. Cleo looked to be hidden beneath a mound of fresh snow.

“Cleo?” Nathan whispered.

The room remained silent and still for several long moments. Nathan would have thought the woman asleep, but a sound like calling her name should have woken her. Both of them were incredibly light sleepers. Finally, like a hibernating bear, she growled from within her den of blankets. “What?”

“Could I have one of the blankets? It’s rather cold in here?” He paused, waiting for her to say no.

A blanket flew from the bed and Nathan caught it before it hit him. Then he closed his eyes once more and sleep blissfully took him.

That night, he dreamed of being back in the river, clutching tightly to the lone mast of a tiny boat as it was tossed around by the furious waves and wind. He did not get much sleep.

***

Nathan groggily awoke, sunlight streaming in from the window and illuminating his room in the nursing home. For some reason, he had fallen asleep in his chair. His back was unlikely to forgive him for that one.

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The elderly man pushed himself up and out of his plush chair, his knees surprisingly not popping. What a strange dream he’d had. Dying, and magic, and a new world, and Cleo, and–

He froze. His tongue slid over his teeth, slowly feeling each individual one. No dentures. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.

“What the hell,” he groaned, voice groggy. Outside the window, life had already begun in Aelsport. Beggars and last night’s drunks were shooed off the street. People milled about, shopping. The mound of blankets that Cleo had been sleeping in was empty, bed made.

A fresh set of clothing was sitting on the floor by the door and Nathan quickly changed out of his bloody leathers and into the soft, clean shirt and pants.

Nathan left the bedroom and walked down the steps to the main sitting area of Arnold’s. Cleo, Arnold, David, and Minerva, were already seated round a scarred wooden table. “Nice of you to join,” Arnold said from below, waving for Nathan to take a seat. “How was your beauty sleep? I hope the accommodations were as nice as you’re used to.”

“Good morning, Nathan.” David had a wide grin on his face. Happy to see the man that had saved his life last night, most likely. No longer tripping over his own feet from drink, and in proper lighting, Nathan could see that the boy’s hair was in fact dirty blond, and not blond that was dirty.

Nathan nodded toward the boy, returning his smile. “Morning, David. Arnold.”

Minerva stood up, offering her hand and introducing herself. Nathan took it kindly, shaking it, and slid into the last remaining seat.

An assortment of breakfast sausages, eggs, and some type of pan fried vegetable lay on a smattering of plates in the center of the table. Nathan took the empty plate in front of his seat and started loading it up. “It was quite comfortable,” he said, looking at Arnold and grabbing a sausage. “Although, even if they weren’t I’d be in no place to complain–” A second sausage never hurt anyone. “– free drinks and then a free place to stay.” He smiled at Arnold, dipping his head in thanks. “You are too kind.”

Arnold finished stuffing a sauteed vegetable into his mouth, licking the juices off of each finger individually with a wet popping sound. “Ain’t nothing free about it.” He looked down at his slobbered fingertips and then wiped them on the front of his shirt. “I told you you’d be working, didn’t I?”

“That you did.” The sausage was quite good. Smokey and peppery. It felt good to eat solid food with real teeth once again. “So, what are we to be doing? Washing dishes isn’t exactly my specialty, but I’m sure Cleo could lick them clean.”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “I’d stick Nathan in back of house, otherwise his face might scare away half of your customers.”

The other three looked awkwardly at each other. They’d likely thought Cleo and Nathan to be – at the very least – amiable traveling companions. But now were thinking them more like two snakes biting each other’s tails. Minerva started clearing away several of the empty plates as Arnold loudly cleared his throat.

“Well first thing’s first.” The tavern owner pushed up out of his chair, wooden legs scraping across the floor. “I can’t be having anyone that’s working in my establishment running around without a Veil. Folks don’t like that sort of thing. Sets ‘em on edge. Last thing I need is some rock-brained patron thinking you're tryna assault them with a plate of warm food, and moving to brawl.” He adjusted the collar of his shirt, flicking his eyes toward David. “Brawls are bad for business.” The boy cowered under the older man’s glare.

“What is a Veil?” Cleo asked, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

David piped up, glad to have someone changing the topic. “You don’t know what a Veil is?”

Cleo shook her head. Her face twitched microscopically. Nathan knew that twitch well, it meant she was annoyed.

“Think of a Veil almost like a disguise.” His face twisted, not quite satisfied with his analogy. “Actually, it’s more like camouflage. It covers the aura of your Threads – keeps people from learning things about you that you don’t want them to.”

At this, both assassins tensed. Nathan felt his skin crawl. After decades of living as secretively as possible, the idea of strangers having the ability to learn about him simply by looking was a nightmare.

From the corner of his eye, Nathan saw Cleo subtly palm a knife from the table. “What do you know about me?” she asked, her voice calm. Arnold and David didn’t pick up on the undertone of her words, but Nathan did. It was a threat.

David smiled, taking another bite of his third sausage. “Not much,” he mumbled through a full mouth. “Just the pressure that your Threads are giving off. It’s more like a feeling, kinda like a magnet.” His eyes lit up, pleased with this analogy. He swallowed, then took a drink from his mug and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “You can’t tell much about a magnet from its magnetic field except how strong it is. And only other things with magnetic fields can feel the pressure. Same with threads. People without access to them can’t feel your pressure, and those with access can only feel the general strength of your pressure.”

“How strong is my pressure?” Nathan asked. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. “It’s stronger than Cleo’s right?”

David looked between the two assassins, his eyes squinted and mouth moving side to side. Nathan didn’t care that much about the true answer. He just wanted to see Cleo’s face when David said that Nathan was stronger. Just the thought alone nearly made him chuckle. David sat back, considering.

“I can’t tell,” he finally said.